Love
by Zorua Illusion
Summary: He sort of understands why Paris is called the City of Love, but he thinks he understands it in a way most people don't consider. (Purely comfort with no hurt involved; Part of Obi2k16.)


Friday- Love

He sort of understands why Paris is called the City of Love, but he thinks he understands in a way most people don't consider.

It's something he comes by freely nowadays. He basks in it like a cat soaks up sun light and warmth, and he could not be more grateful.

He remembered what is was like to have love permeate his house, fusing into the now foreboding foyer and sinking into every crevice. Laughter would sashay down hallways and dance in the air, footsteps sounding forth like a beating drum. (They used to play piano to that beat, the pulse of left-right-left-right that they could hear even with everyone sitting down.) When smiles and emotion ran the house, not a ticking clock.

It wasn't very long ago that it had changed. It was a quick process, blindsiding Adrien with grief he couldn't deal with. Grief he didn't know _how_ to deal with. And, apparently, neither did his father, as from that day on the man was drowning in work, not even having enough time for his mourning son.

Adrien felt the love seep out, felt the smiles fade then disappear, the warmth being swept away by a cold wind that never seemed to end. The ticking clock grew louder. (Adrien lost count of the footsteps a few times, but he never lost the beat for too long. It was too precious to him.)

Months passed. Then a year. Maybe two? He couldn't tell. It was all a blur, really, of working and tutors and being trapped inside this marble cage of his.

But then- then he was allowed some freedom.

Public school was a mix of great and terrible. No one liked homework, and Adrien could deal without the pop quizzes and sour moods of teachers. But he was finally able to interact with kids his age without them being screened as if they were criminals. He finally had _friends_.

Nino, Alya, Marinette, heck, Kim and Max and Nathanel and and and! So many people he could call friends! He wasn't even sure what to do about it. He wasn't sure he wanted to do anything about it.

But it didn't end there. Oh no. Then came a ring in a box, and from that ring came Plagg. Honestly Adrien could only describe the kwami as "a little shit", finding no term better for the cat-like being. But Adrien loved him and he knew Plagg loved him back, even if he has a weird way of showing it. (Slow blinks and cuddles, brutal honesty and playful teasing, sometimes obnoxious but always knew when the time for talking wasn't right then and would instead just be a constant, warm presence.) He loved his kwami fiercely, and not just because Plagg allowed him to be Chat Noir.

Speaking of superheroes, it wasn't too long after he met the magic being that he met Ladybug. And while they may not know much about each other personally, he knew they were friends. Oh yes, he loved Ladybug, but he was her friend first and foremost and it isn't just Chat that would take a blow meant for one of his friends. Fortunately, as a civilian he's been able to dodge most of the preemptive strikes of the akumatized people as well as helping his friends get out of the way. Then it's off to transform and help his Lady defeat and purify the akuma before the damage gets too severe. (The Cure only heals physical damage, they know, but they don't know how far that goes and they don't want to find out.)

So one day when Chat showed up an hour early for patrol (he could've sworn she said three in the afternoon today… or was today the day when her civilian form had a thing to do? She'd mentioned it after a sound-based akuma and his hearing still hadn't recovered, and with several tests in school and his extra-curriculars, the information had been blurred), he sat down in one of the higher beams of the Eiffel Tower. He gazed out, looking for any obvious signs of trouble, before getting lost in thought as a way to entertain himself. He wasn't at risk of losing his transformation as he waited; Plagg could hold for about eight hours if Chat didn't use Cataclysm.

He thought about a conversation he once had with the American chef at his home as she taught him how to bake bread – sure, maybe not as good as Tom and Sabine's, but still. The two often conversed as they kneaded the dough to the correct consistency.

"How different is Paris as compared to America?" Adrien had asked.

She paused before replying, translating what he had said in her head. "The buildings are very different," she started. "They are not built the same. Close."

"I don't understand what you mean."

She made a sort of grumbling noise. "America, houses are separate. Space in between to prevent fire."

Adrien tried to picture a city spaced like the businesses and manors around his own. It was indeed very different than what he was used to.

"The naming, too," she said after a moment of thought. "The naming is very… good." That evidently wasn't the word she wanted to use by the look on her face.

Adrien gave her a curious glance. She tested both batches of the dough for their consistency, humming a bit before going back to her own and finally responding as she continued to knead.

"City of Love," she said. "It very much is. So much love, not only from pairs. Many passionate about actions, or friends. Lots of love." She shrugged. Adrien didn't know much English, so he figured it was another issue of translation. She began to check on the dough again, elaborating more differences between her home country and the country she had come to live in.

As the memory faded, Chat thought about what she meant. He thought of the love he had given to his friends and family, and the love he had received from them.

He thought of footsteps and piano keys and dancing laughter.

He thought of acceptance and kindness and caring and friendship.

He thought of defending, of thrills, of a giant game of tag he never wanted to win, of confidence offered by anonymity.

He thought of rain and kindness and baked goods and video games, of stutters and mild confusion.

He thought of stubbornness, of a particular kind of care, of defense and unrelenting seeking.

He thought of freedom offered, of brutal honesty and teasing and slow blinks and purrs, of a constant companion who understood many things and ignored others.

Adrien thought of love and enjoyed every second of it, and made a resolution to keep giving it out.

(He defended Paris, after all, and wasn't Paris the City of Love?)

Friday's Prompt: Love.

Thank you previous mention of an America chef for letting me have a conversation opener.

One elaboration on this post: I don't believe Adrien's mother has been missing for more than five years. This is due to the photos in Jackady/Simon Says; Adrien appears to be the same age with those photos. He's also a teenage boy, so because puberty is a thing, he would've looked a lot different in the photos, or at the very least a lot younger. The fact that he looks almost the same tells me that she hasn't been missing for long. Long enough for the stages of grief to run their course (I think Adrien is somewhere in the acceptance phase, but those are hardly linear), long enough for Adrien to learn his father's behavior patterns, however, which is why I gave it a time frame of a few years.

Only one more after this guys, then it's over! I'm kind of happy I did this, actually. Adrien, Tikki, and Plagg are my favorite characters to explore. (Which is exactly why when Season 2 comes out that every single one of these is going to be completely wrong.)


End file.
